_Muza_. We shall confound him yet. Say, and speak quickly, whither went the king? Thou knewest where was Julian. _Abd._ I will tell Without his answer: yes, my friends! yes, Tarik, Now will I speak, nor thou, for once, reply. There is, I hear, a poor half-ruin’d cell In Xeres, whither few indeed resort; Green are the walls within, green is the floor And slippery from disuse; for christian feet Avoid it, as half-holy, half-accurst. Still in its dark recess fanatic sin Abases to the ground his tangled hair, And servile scourges and reluctant groans Roll o’er the vault uninterruptedly, Till, such the natural stilness of the place, The very tear upon the damps below Drops audible, and the heart’s throb replies. There is the idol maid of christian creed, And taller images, whose history I know not, nor inquired—a scene of blood, Of resignation amid mortal pangs, And other things, exceeding all belief. Hither the aged Opas of Seville Walked slowly, and behind him was a man Barefooted, bruized, dejected, comfortless, In sack-cloth; the white ashes on his head Dropt as he smote his breast—he gathered up, Replaced them all, groan’d deeply, looked to heaven, And held them, like a treasure, with claspt hands. _Egil._ O! was Roderigo so abased? _Muza_. ’Twas he. Now, Egilona, judge between your friends And enemies—behold what wretches brought The king, thy lord, Roderigo, to disgrace. _Egil._ He merited—but not from them—from me This, and much worse: had I inflicted it, I had rejoiced—at what I ill endure. _Muza_. For thee, for thee alone, we wished him here, But other hands released him— _Abd._ —With what aim Will soon appear to those discerning eyes. _Egil._ I pray thee, tell what past until that hour. _Abd._ Few words, and indistinct: repentant sobs Filled the whole space; the taper in his hand, Lighting two small dim lamps before the altar, He gave to Opas—at the idol’s feet He laid his crown, and wiped his tears away: The crown reverts not, but the tears return. _Egil._ Yes, Abdalazis! soon, abundantly. If he had only called upon my name, Seeking my pardon ere he looked to heaven’s, I could have—no! he thought not once on me! Never shall he find peace or confidence; I will rely on fortune and on thee Nor fear my future lot: sure, Abdalazis, A fall so great can never happen twice, Nor man again be faithless, like Roderigo. _Abd._ Faithless he may be still, never so faithless. Fainter must be the charms, remote the days, When memory and dread example die, When love and terror thrill the heart no more, And Egilona is herself forgotten. ACT V. SCENE 4. JULIAN _enters_.